


"never been too fond of endings"

by anette



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Harry's sort of suicidal but not really, Hurt/Comfort, I dont know how to tag, Lots of Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Suicide Attempt, i use some words not in english, louis and harry should never be sad, louis is sad, you might have to look those up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:07:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anette/pseuds/anette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>but somewhere along the line, sad stops being an emotion, and becomes the only adjective you pertain to.</p><p>but louis deals with it, treks through the long arduous journey that is life. because he has his anti-depressants and he lives for the small things that makes him feel like there's a spot of warmth in his chest. </p><p>there's a boy. four balconies to the left, standing on the outside of the rails. staring at the streets below, ready to jump. but the difference is that, when a particularly strong gust of wind blows by him (louis may be imagining it, because the boy is far away) his hands tense around the bars behind him. this boy doesn't really want to die.</p><p>or</p><p>the one where harry wants to die and they're both sort of sad but it's all okay in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"never been too fond of endings"

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta'd and in dire need of capital letters but idk sorry look to the notes at the end for an outtake

it's cold today.

and it's too early, the sky still a pale greyish-blue. the kind you only really see in the wee hours of the morning.

but louis needs to smoke.

he craves it, revels in the way that he can feel the poison gathering in his lungs. he bathes in it, inhales as much as he can; until the cigarette burns to the fliter and even then he continues to smoke, because louis' never been too fond of endings.

he smokes until the filter gets too hot for his fingers, and then puts it out with a stomp of his foot.

louis breathes in the air, he wobbles a little bit when a sudden gust of air brushes past him. these winds could kill, he thinks.

he looks to his right and there's an old woman, bundled up in what seems to be about 30 blankets, drinking tea on her own balcony. he wonders what she's thinking. he's heard that the older you get, the more intricate your thoughts become.

louis thinks he's gotten old. a thousand years old maybe. the wear and tear of london aging him, and soon becoming too much to handle.

the old woman looks to him and smiles, a shy smile. and it momentarily makes him feel warm. because, contrary to popular belief, being sad doesn't mean you can't feel happy sometimes.

the thing is, somewhere along the line, sad stops being an emotion, and becomes the only adjective you pertain to.

but louis deals with it, treks through the long arduous journey that is life. because he has his anti-depressants and he lives for the small things that makes him feel like there's a spot of warmth in his chest. 

he smiles back at the woman, loving the way that her eyes crinkle. wondering if he'll have laugh lines the way she does, when he's that age.  when his skin starts to catch up to his mind, when he feels pain in his joints and peace in his head.

he stops smiling when she does, her eyes growing wide and skin going pale (paler) looking at something beyond louis. he follows her line of sight to his left and sees what she does.

there's a boy. four balconies to the left, standing on the outside of the rails. staring at the streets below, ready to jump. but the difference is that, when a particularly strong gust of wind blows by him (louis may be imagining it, because the boy is far away) his hands tense around the bars behind him. this boy doesn't really want to die.

if he wanted to die, he would've jumped when he turned his curly head and met eyes with louis. (louis may be imagining this too) louis thinks his eyes say  _don't let me do it._

louis thinks his eyes say  _im afraid._

suddenly louis is running. past the sliding glass door of his balcony, past the door to his flat. he runs down the hall, counting four doors to the left. the door is unlocked, _a freudian slip???_ , louis thinks absently.

he runs through, and onto the balcony. the boy still seems so far. so caught up his own world of anguish and  _toska_ (probably) and his own tears. louis hold a pill bottle in his hand, one that he had noticed empty when he ran past the kitchen counter. sleeping pills.

"did you take alot?" he asks.

"just enough to make sure i don't chicken out of it."the boy replies, a good amount lower than louis had expected,"ive lready made my decision." 

"i don't think you have though." louis says, truthfully.

"i can't do this anymore" they boy says, with all the honesty in the world.

but he doesn't sound all there. the sleeping pills have kicked in, probably.

"i've been there. i know how it feels. but there's always something to live for. someone to help you through it." louis feels somthing in his chest, like _k_ _oev halev._

he moves to stand directly behind the boy, not sure if he's noticed.

three lifetimes seem to pass before the boy replies again and even then the reply is just a whisper. the words a hardship for louis's ears to catch, given the winds.

"but there's noone left" and then the boy's body goes limp and he's falling.

but louis's small hands come up and wrap underneath his arms. they stop his body from falling further, before he can fall to the unforgiving concrete.

louis looks down and scowls at the street below, at the menacing space between the balcony and the ground.

the rails come up to louis's ribs, so it hurts, but louis hauls the unconscious boy up with all the strength he can muster.

they both fall onto the brick of his balcony and louis sighs a breath of relief. he looks to his right and that same old woman is still there, five balconies over and louis thinks he sees her smiling warmly at them.

it hits louis all at once,

he just saved this boy's life.

he sits up, still holding the boy to him.

louis takes the boys face in his hands and tries patting him on the cheek to wake him, the way he's seen done in movies.

when he doesn't get a response (as predicted), he picks up the taller boy (albeit struggling a bit) and sets him down on a couch in his living room. 

he's worried.

even through the haze of anti-depressants, his feelings from before resurface sometimes. the feelings that are supposed to be numb under the medication. the medication that means louis's feelings are always lukewarm.

he's not sure how many sleeping pills the boy had taken before, so he calls an ambulance. because how ironic would it be if louis had saved him from the fall so that the boy would die of an overdose before his very eyes anyway?

louis walks over and crouches next to the boy, examining him. his face is calm in sleep, barely resembling the boy who had been standing on that ledge minutes prior.

but there are tear tracks on his face, that make him look like the crying's been endless, like he's been crying for decades. louis has the overwhelming desire to make him happy.

he thinks that a face that pretty shouldn't cry.

he thinks that his face is familiar. not familiar like in the way that he's seen him before, like in passing at the grocery store or in an elevator. but like maybe, he knows this boy. like maybe in a different time or a different place, he knew this boy inside out, knew how he likes his eggs, or if he likes eggs even; or knew what side of the bed he likes to sleep on.

he thinks that maybe in another life, in another universe, he could've loved this boy. could've _been_ in love with this boy.

the boy was maybe just a bit younger than louis, 18 or 19 probably.

too young to die.

//

when the ambulance arrives, they ask if louis would like to ride with him to the hospital.

he says yes, because nobody deserves to be alone.

//

they ask louis what the boy's name is at the hospital, and louis has no trouble giving it because he'd scoured a few drawers in search of the boy's information before the paramedics arrived. louis knew how hospitals worked, and sometimes that was a good thing.

harry

that was his name

harry styles of chesire, 18 and all alone in london.

there's no contacts for them to call and louis feels something like grief bubbling in his stomach.

he can't even fathom the thought that this boy would not have been missed.

harry styles could've died and nobody would have even known. the friends he must've had would just figure he'd disappeared somewhere and moved on.

so he stays. because once again, nobody deserves to be alone.

//

louis is there when harry opens his eyes for the first time since he tried to commit suicide.

he grunts a bit and then lets out a low whine, body slowly coming to, louis coninues running his hands through harry's hair, as he he rasps out something about his throat killing him, to which louis smiles at because it's quite ironic, in the sickest way possible. he holds a cup up to harry's mouth and watches as he drinks enthusiastically.

he pulls the cup from harry's lips once he's finished and watches as his eyes make the transition from conveying confusion (as he looks around the room) to realization as he comes to remember how he got there.

"i'm louis" louis says. and then he sees harry's eyes are glistening with tears and one rolls down his cheek before he lets out a sob.

louis is overwhelmed again, overwhelmed by the need to comfort him.

he thinks it's this boy, because he's been overwhelming louis since he first saw him.

louis scoots closer and runs a thumb over harry's cheek, wiping away the tears and tells him what he really thinks harry needs to hear.

"shh, hey harry?" he takes a moment to make sure harry's taking in his words and then whispers into the skin somewhere between his cheek and his ear, "you're not alone."

//

it's been 6 years.

louis takes a look around his yard and takes in all of the lovely faces that have supported him through thick and thin. takes in everyone's big smiles and warm laughs.

there's a bonfire celebration because yesterday, the love of his life decided to propose. 

it's been a day of being engaged, three years of cheesy dates, four years of living together, five years louis's been off his meds, six years knowing eachother, and a thousand lifetimes of loving eachother; louis thinks.

he thinks back to a boy, six years ago. a boy he'd saved from jumping to his death.

a boy with so much sadness, a boy who louis didn't know; but felt such anguish for.

that boy is dead.

 

not literally, but figuratively. because that sadness gave way to such happiness that it was blinding.

he liked to call louis the sun, but louis thinks that harry shines far brighter.

because despite all that he's been through, louis still lives to see him shine, and he does.

shines so dangerously bright he thinks the sun needs uv protection.

louis thinks back to when harry's light was dimmed.

when louis swore they'd loved eachother in another universe, known eachother in another universe.

it seems like it's the same in this one.

it's probably the same in all of them.

because in this one louis knows harry inside and out, he knows that harry's mother is was the only person he'd ever loved, knows that when she passed away he'd felt like there was nothing left for him; knows that harry likes his eggs sunny side up and that he likes the left side of the bed.

louis feels a finger poke at his cheek and smiles up at his fiance, wriggling in his lap and curling further into his chest. because somewhere along the line, though harry had been tall to begin with, he'd become some kind of plant thing and sprouted to be almost head taller than louis.

with every passing day he grows more and more glad he saved that boy from jumping.

but really, he thinks that given the circumstances, they saved eachother.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> outtake: later that night they're in bed when harry asks louis why he saved him in the first place.  
> not in a way that insinuates he wanted to die, but more like he's conveying awe that louis would set out to stop a random stranger from falling.  
> louis just shrugs his shoulders,closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to harry's shoulder, murmuring into the skin there, 
> 
> "never been too fond of endings."


End file.
